


The Soldier and The Witch

by ValkyrieShepard



Category: DmC: Devil May Cry, Marvel
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkyrieShepard/pseuds/ValkyrieShepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul had been taken to be the Soldier's pet, and so that's what he became.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Pet

**Author's Note:**

> I am really just posting this here for convenience. For Ina. <3 A small drabble. I have time now, I will write all the things for you, if you want.

The Soldier.

 

From the moment Paul had been brought to the facility, he had been taught that he belonged to him, that he existed to bring him pleasure, to be a reward for a mission well done. He had resisted the examinations at first, the pain and torture, the constant stream of words telling him he was nothing, that he was the Soldier’s. He had tried. Had clung to the memory of magic at his fingertips, the wind rushing in his ears, the warmth of the sun on his skin but the pain…

 

The pain had removed all of it. And the collar prevented it from coming back.

 

He was the Soldier’s pet. He existed purely for him, their saviour, the one who would shape the world in their master’s image.

 

Paul had wondered, at first, why they would hurt the Soldier, if he was so important. But asking questions only brought more pain, more time in the darkness or worse - on the chair. Needles sticking into him, taking, always taking. Blood, always his blood, so much of it, shouldn’t he be dead already? But despite all the pain, what his masters always made sure of, was that he would live.

 

He was the Soldier’s after all.

 

And though they were sure to numb him, there was still fear inside him the first time he was sent to the Soldier. He had not been long with them, after all. Or had he? The cold box he slept in made it hard to tell.

 

He hadn’t been in this room before, but like his own cell, it was bare, tiled walls and floor, with only a mattress in the middle of it. Paul was told to wait on it, and so he did. Naked, and collared, but shame was something he couldn’t remember anymore. The Soldier followed soon after, stumbling into the room, before his eyes fixed onto Paul. He shivered as he walked towards him, slowly kneeling on the mattress.

 

“Pet.”

 

Yes. That’s what he was, and yet he flinched when his Soldier reached out. No, no, no, he was not supposed to do that, there would be pain again, once this was over. So he kept still instead, already anticipating the worst. But the Soldier’s touch was gentle, his hand warm on his cheek and when Paul opened his eyes, he realized that he was just as afraid. They kept the Soldier just as they kept him, in the box, until he was needed, until he was told what to do.

 

They were the same.

 

Paul slowly reached out as well, hand shaking as he intertwined their fingers, the metal of that hand so cold against his skin. The Soldier looked so confused for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on him, before he relaxed, just a fraction. He understood. There was nothing in this world anymore that could make them feel at ease. Did he understand, how alike they were?

 

But in the end, it did not matter. Paul fulfilled his role, his purpose, as he laid back onto the mattress, pulling the Soldier with him. He was trained to just take him, to even feel good when he did, because when he tensed he would not be able to please him and that was what he was meant for.

 

The Soldier owned him, and yet he was gentle, pushing into him slowly, even waited for a moment after that first thrust. Paul couldn’t even remember if he had done this before, and it hardly mattered. He would be his first, and his last, until the end of time, whenever that would be.

 

As soon as he had spilled inside Paul, they were dragged apart, and just as he had dreaded, he was put into the darkness again. He had flinched, he wasn’t supposed to flinch. He would do better next time, he promised his masters, but promises meant little to them. Paul would need to show it, and did, when he was once more woken from the cold box, and pushed into the room. This time he found himself sitting up, already reaching out when the Soldier was brought in, and even greeted him by his name.

 

“Soldier.”

 

“Pet.”

 

It took longer this time, the Soldier even more gentle, pushing deep, deep into him each time, until he came as well. Together, with his Soldier, but the pleasure didn’t last long. Dragged apart, hosed off, and back into the box. Rinse. Repeat.

 

Whenever he was taken out to not be led to that room, he found himself hoping, wishing the Soldier would do a good job on his next mission, just so he could see him again. Paul had nothing else here, even his name sounded strange inside his head. He was the pet, the Soldier’s pet and he almost seemed… content, in that role.

 

But whatever… pleasure they had, was cut short the day they kissed.

 

He couldn’t tell if it was clumsy or not, all he could tell was that it sent sparks down his spine, sparks that woke a distant memory, a warmth promising safety. Until it was violently ripped from them, quite literally. The masters dragged them apart, and then all he could remember was pain pain pain. White hot, deep inside his very being, the way only the masters could hurt.

 

And so the next time they were allowed to be together, the Soldier took him from behind. Hands only on his hips, the less touch, the safer they were and yet… They were almost brave sometimes, stealing a quick peck on the lips after they had spilled, when they would both be dragged away anyway. And the pain, it seemed almost worth it.

 

However, it was not, when they dragged Paul into a different room, one that was split in two by a large glass front. He didn’t understand why he was here, and why the Soldier was on the other side, how would he be able to please him like this? Of course he didn’t ask, it was not allowed, and so he took the blow to the side of his head without crying out. He barely managed to catch himself, his eyes still on his Soldier who looked… scared. He had stepped towards the glass, hands balled into fists.

 

Paul could hear the muffled voice of one of the masters behind the glass.

 

“You have failed.”

 

It couldn’t be. His Soldier was good, always did what he was told, how could he have failed? And now Paul brought him pain, too, by taking these hits, against his back, his stomach. He could block out some of it, but he couldn’t stand that this was hurting his Soldier. That was not his purpose.

 

“I will not fail again!”, the Soldier yelled, it was clear, even through the glass, the hurt in his voice. “Please!”

 

“Remember, he is disposable.”

 

Of course he was. If he could not please the Soldier, they would find someone who did. Once that might have been appealing to him, to rather be dead than be in this… existence, if it could be called that. But his Soldier needed him, he could see it, could almost feel it even. If only the collar wasn’t there, he could do so, so much more.

 

Empath. The word was almost at the tip of his tongue, but another kick, to his head this time, sent his world spinning. Next time he woke, he was in the chair again, the pain dulled to a steady, dull throb. Only the needles sent sharp stings through his body, and so he welcomed the darkness when it engulfed him again. The cold stone floor was almost comforting in comparison. Not the box this time, perhaps he would be able to see his Soldier again after all.

 

His body gave out then, and when he closed his eyes it didn’t make a difference. He was just floating, like this he didn’t feel any pain at least, until he was woken by the sound of… Paul couldn’t really tell, it was loud, it sounded wrong. When the door to his cell opened, a bright light blinded him. These people were not his masters, and so he scrambled into the furthest corner, tried to make himself as small as possible, but he couldn’t hide. If his masters found out, they would hurt him again, he was not allowed to speak to anyone.

 

“My god, look at him. What have they done?”

 

“Nothing good”, another voice, and Paul dared to look at these two. There was a star, on a shield, like his Soldier’s, but white. “Hey, you’re safe now.”

 

How could he be? He would never be safe, his masters would know, and they would punish him. He just wanted to do what he was supposed to, to please his Soldier. To be with him.

 

“Hey, Cap. Let me talk to him.” The first one, dark skin - wings?

 

The wings stirred other memories deep inside him. Good ones, of safety and love, bad ones, of war and destruction. It hurt to think of them, so he let the collar take care of them until they were gone.

 

“I’m Sam”, the first one said, kneeling in front of him. Despite knowing better, Paul was curious. “The people here, they hurt you, didn’t they?”

 

He wouldn’t give into this, it could be a trick. It could be the masters testing him, and if he said yes there would be even more pain. So he said nothing.

 

“They are bad people, but you know that. We took care of them, and they will not be hurting you anymore. I know you don’t have a reason to trust me, but I promise you, I will keep you safe. What do you say?”

 

Paul stared long and hard at him, watching the stretched out hand, an invitation to take it. They both looked so strong, the blond one too. Could they have really done it, destroyed the masters? And if they were gone, what would happen to him, what would happen to…?

 

“The… The Soldier”, he whispered. His voice would not allow him anything more. “Where is my Soldier?”

 

“Soldier?”, the blond asked. “The Winter Soldier? Do you know him? Do you know where he is?”

 

“Cap, relax.” The first one turned to him again. “We’re looking for him too. We could use your help.”

 

It was decided, then. Paul reached out, shaking, to take his hand… Sam? It was difficult to remember, even his own name. But he couldn’t stand when he was pulled up, collapsed against the tall man, before he was gathered up in his arms. He didn’t have the energy to stay awake for long, suddenly there was a blanket around him, and they were walking.

 

The sunlight was overwhelming, after so, so many years of being locked away. For now he was blind, but he reached out, to feel the wind against his hand, opened his mouth to taste the falling rain on his tongue. It was all new, and all so familiar.

 

He would find his soldier, and then they would experience it together. Away from the masters.

 

Together.

 

 


	2. His Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS. Anyway, here it is.

Getting out seemed like a new kind of fear, until he saw the soldiers, the… scientists, that had the same inquisitive look in their eyes when they saw him. The look that meant pain pain pain. So he did what he always had, closed his eyes and waited for it to be over, to go to that place inside his mind where the hurt was numbed, where it could not fully reach him.

 

Except the pain never came, and when he woke, he was floating. No, not quite…

 

His eyes had an easier time to adjust to the dark, and after he had struggled to sit up he saw… a room. Not bare, clinical, but cluttered, a pile of clothes in the corner, a dark brown closet, and he was on a huge bed. So soft… he couldn’t remember the last time he had been on a bed.

 

Paul tried to stand, but his vision blurred for a moment, his legs shook under his own weight. Which could not be much, no… His sense of time was warped, incredibly so, but even he could tell that he had been in the darkness for a long time, longer than usual. Because things had gone wrong for his masters, he figured as he leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath before starting to walk. He still needed the wall to support himself, but he hesitated when he had opened the door a crack. Voices.

 

“Do you really think this was a good idea, bringing him here?” That was the… blond one, with the star, just like the Soldier’s.

 

“You saw him, didn’t you?” The other one had called him Sam. The nice one. Yes, Paul decided he would be the nice one. “He completely checked out when he saw the agents. I couldn’t let them have him. He doesn’t understand that he’s safe yet, I know the look.”

 

“Yes, but here…?”

 

“I’m sorry, but what choice did I have?”

 

Paul stumbled, then, his legs not able to carry him anymore, and he finally drew their attention. Sam was there immediately, lifting him up and carrying him into the living room, where he looked around curiously. It all seemed a little strange to him, though he could not even summon the memory of the last time he had been in a room like this. He also couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten food - real food, not the stuff that tasted like paper they had fed his body to just keep him alive for his Soldier.  

 

The nice one… Sam, he had to remind himself, smiled as he handed him the food. An egg, a piece of bread, nothing more, and yet he whimpered when he bit into it. Even unseasoned it was the greatest thing, overwhelming his senses with the flavour.

 

“I know it’s not much”, Sam said. “But you need to readjust to real food. I don’t want you to get sick.”

 

He was so smart and kind, or at least it seemed that way to Paul, that it should send him on edge. The people he had known his entire life were never like this, he shouldn’t trust this stranger, even though he had freed him. But at this point, what choice did he have? There was nowhere for him to go.

 

“What about your collar?”, the blond, no, Steve, asked and reached out. He flinched, and the plate he was holding clattered to the floor.

 

“No, no, it hurts if you touch it. Please, please…”

 

“Okay, I won’t, I’m sorry.” He raised his hands and backed off again, the pain in his eyes seemed almost genuine. “Do you feel like talking? Just talking, about Hydra?”

 

“Hydra?” He had never heard the word before, but he answered their question, as best he could. There wasn’t much he had seen, he hadn’t understood the things they had done to him, the one thing that had been real to him, was the Soldier.

 

But it became clear that with his limited knowledge of the facility and how it worked, he would not be able to help find him. He couldn’t even stand up on his own, he was weak. But Sam didn’t discard him, didn’t throw him out on the street, instead he kept him here, kept feeding him, even helped him get stronger on his own. Always asking for permission to touch him, always there with an encouraging word, or simply his presence if Paul needed it.

 

When he found Paul tracing the spines of the books in his apartment he even asked if there was anything in particular he needed, but there was nothing he could answer to that. He was simply drawn to them, but at a first glance couldn’t read any of them. It hurt to try and remember, and when he wrote a few words in the language he did remember, they hurt Sam when he tried to look at them and it was worse when he spoke them out loud. He didn’t want to hurt this person, and so Paul never did it again, instead focused on relearning the language they were speaking, and how it was written down. Until he could read it again with ease, and buried himself in books, piles of them, always hunched in a corner while he inspected them. Sam looked at him with that worried look in his eyes, but Paul felt safe in the corner, safer anyhow.

 

It seemed surreal, the thought of safety.

 

Sam always told him when he and Steve went out looking for the Soldier, but after a while, Paul learned not to hold out hope. They always came back empty handed, with more questions than answers, or a trail gone cold. There had to be a way he could help them, he could feel it, deep down, but the collar still had its effect and he couldn’t let anyone touch it. The one memory so clearly burned into his mind was the pain it could create when touched by someone who was not the masters.

 

They kept trying to convince him, to let someone look at it, their friend Tony, or someone from what he found out was called SHIELD, but he didn’t trust any of them, and his fear was simply too great.

 

After months, and Paul made sure to check the date every day, he was still not quite as strong as Sam, and even still passed out on the couch sometimes. Today to Sam telling him there had been a disturbance at the facility he had been in, but it barely registered in his mind. It was luck that he awoke that night, because the struggle on the floor was almost silent, Sam trying to struggle against the knee on his chest, the hand on his throat, the other holding his hands above his head. A metal hand.

 

“Stop”, Paul breathed, sitting up. His heart was fluttering in his chest, the Soldier, his Soldier was here.

 

“Pet”, his Soldier breathed, eyes fixed on him. There was a hunted look about him, like a cornered animal, desparate.

 

“Don’t call him th-”, Sam started, but the Soldier’s grip on his throat tightened.

 

Paul slipped off the couch, kneeling in front of the two, gently reaching out to take his Soldier’s hand. First, guiding it off Sam’s throat, the touch, even like this, sent sparks through him.

 

“He tried to stop me from getting to you”, the Soldier said, his grip slowly relaxing. He sounded like he was defending himself. “I didn’t want to…”

 

“I know.” Paul now reached for the metal hand, pressing a kiss to it that made his Soldier shudder before he pulled it to his chest. “My Soldier, you found me…”

 

Sam had pulled away as soon as he was free, watching them now curiously, but he had evidently decided that Paul was safe for the moment. Right now they only had eyes for each other, both so urgent to be close, to touch, to kiss, but the memory of their masters was still fresh in their minds. They were always pulled apart, always punished if they showed any sort of affection, and it made them hesitate.

 

“I would have come sooner, but I… I was so confused”, the Soldier whispered, his grip on Paul’s hand tightening. It was an apology, an attempt at one, but it was all Paul needed.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay”, he replied, inching closer to him. “There are no masters to tear us apart anymore. They’re gone.”

 

He gave in, then, his soldier. Despite everything they knew, he pulled Paul close, held him for a moment before looking at him again, touching him. His face, brushing over his cheek, through his hair, hugging him again and finally, finally he kissed him. Paul whimpered as he felt his lips on his own, maybe it was clumsy, maybe it wasn’t even good but it felt perfect to him. Like the power of a thousand burning suns rushed through him, not hurting, but engulfing both of them in perfect warmth.

 

Paul hadn’t even noticed the Soldier’s hand wandering up his back, and when it was on his collar, it was too late. Before he could say anything, there was a soft click, and he gasped when it fell to the floor, shocked at first, and then overwhelmed. By the sounds he could suddenly hear, the smells, the pure energy rushing back into him, the things he could feel, all at once. The worry practically radiating from Sam didn’t let him stagger, no, that was something else.

 

He could feel the Soldier’s emotion, amplified through their touch as he held him. It was so pure, so raw, it made him shake with the intensity of it. It was a simple emotion, warm and yet so fierce, rolling over him in waves. Love.

 

“Oh, my Soldier…”, he gasped, cupping his face, not able to hold back the tears. “I love you too.”

 

His eyes went wide at that, and though he could not say the words, it was enough for Paul to feel it like this. Again he was placed onto the couch, his Soldier right beside him, by now not paying any attention to Sam anymore.

 

“It… My name, it’s Bucky.”

 

“Paul.”

 

Steve burst in, a little while later, and they had to force themselves to pay any kind of attention to him. Bucky - and it was hard to remember the name, but it sounded so pleasant, even in his mind - told them what he had been through, how he had been looking for Paul after relearning who he was. They were promised a life, then.

 

With Bucky’s help he could manage to go outside, to not be overwhelmed by all those new sensations, and slowly but surely they changed. They could never be the people they had been before all this, but they could move on, discover who they were and what they could do. Which was anything, Paul realized soon enough. This is why they had taken him, because of the magic coursing through his veins, which could surely be used to fight, to destroy, but even after everything it was the furthest thing from his mind. He used it to nurture, to help, others and himself. It had been locked away from him for so long, he hadn’t even realized that he had been incomplete this whole time. Now, finally, he could be himself.

 

Whoever that might be.

 

There were many firsts for the two of them. Their first night together, just holding each other, staring into each other’s eyes as the hours ticked by. The first time seeing their own apartment, going shopping, mundane things they could never have deemed possible, and that were so exciting in their own way. And finally, the first time they really, truly made love. Bucky whispered apologies into his ear, for taking him all those times without his consent, but Paul could tell him, without a doubt, that he would not have made it without him. He had been the one good thing in his life.

 

But from now on, there would be many, many more.

 

It was difficult, finding their way, to keep going in this strange world that was so hard to understand at times. But when he heard Bucky laugh, for the very first time, a beautiful, genuine laugh, he thought that maybe, they would be all right.

 

Together.

 

 


End file.
